


Thunderstorms

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aww Comforting Castiel, Fluff, Gender neutral (though reader is slightly feminine), Mentions of Blood, Other, a little violence, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is afraid of thunder, and calls on her favorite trenchcoat clad angel for help. Fluff, no smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorms

The thunder crashed outside the window of the tiny motel room you had to yourself. You were on the top floor, just a door away from the boys, on a night where the moon couldn’t shine through the clouds. The rain, thick and heavy, pounded against the glass and roof. You saw the lightning flash, and braced yourself.

BOOM!

You whimpered, clinging to the sheets of the motel bed, frightened of the loud noise that broke through the tiny room like a gunshot. A memory relayed through your mind…

“MAMA!” the child screams, five-year old voice stricken and taut with fear. The child’s father lie on the ground, surrounded in slick, dark, crimson blood. The mother, kneeling next to him, falls down, and the blood on the grass mingles with the water falling from the sky. There was a scary man, one with a sharp, stained object, coming at the terrified kid and they, with tracks of silver streaking their face, run into the deep green forest behind the bloody scene. Rain pours down their body in curtains.  
CRACK! The thunder roars in the frightened child’s ears, and they shriek. Stumbling into a wet creek, they curl into a ball and shiver in fright.   
BOOM! SMASH!  
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

You shivered at the unwanted memory, snuggling further in your sheets. Your heart refused to slow down, despite your many desperate attempts to control it.

CRACK!

“CASTIEL!” In fear, you called for the angel of whom you’d fallen in love with. There was a flutter of wings, and the man with the beige trench coat was there, sky blue eyes boring into your (Y/E/C) ones. You saw his dark eyebrows furrow, his head tilting in a way that made your heart ache, and he knelt down to your level.

“Are you frightened of something, (Y/N)?” He asked, his impossibly deep voice soothed you slightly, and you nodded, tears pouring out of your eyes and onto the sheets. Castiel only nodded in return and softly asked you what he needed to do in order to calm your fears.

‘Don’t leave me here alone.’ A desperate part of you plead, but you shushed it, and asked him to get a cup of water. He nodded again, brows furrowing into a fuzzy caterpillar, and suddenly there was a small cup of the clear liquid in your trembling fingers. You desperately gulped the cool liquid down and thanked him.

He turned to leave, and you found your hand reaching for the sleeve of his trenchcoat as the thunder rolled. A small scream escaped your lips as you jumped up and hugged his back in a desperate attempt to keep him with you. 

“P-Please,” you begged, your voice shaking, “stay until I’m asleep.”

You nearly kicked yourself for being so vulnerable, but all embarrassment was forgotten as he turned and wrapped his strong arms around you. 

As he gently pressed you back into bed and mojo’d the majority of his clothes off, you gave yourself a single second to study his gorgeous face, marveling at the high, prominent cheekbones, slightly chapped lips, feather soft, thick black hair, and a straight bridged nose that made him look regal, in his own angelic way.

You shoved your face into the fabric of his cotton button up shirt, soaking up the warmth. You noticed the rise and fall of his chest, though he doesn't need oxygen to survive, and smiled at his caring, fears fading.

Your eyelids slid closed, and you knew that the fields of sleep were so close you could reach out your hand and stroke them. As you felt your consciousness ebbing away, Castiel’s lips brushed against your forehead, ever so light, ever so careful, as if you were made of fragile, cracked glass. So easily broken, yet so heartbreakingly beautiful. 

You sighed; contented with just one night holding the man you called your angel.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
